


Firenze

by My_Trex_has_fleas



Series: Folie A Deux [11]
Category: Poldark - All Media Types, Return to Treasure Island (TV 1996)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Blasphemy, Blood and Gore, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Murder Husbands, Torture, rosary beads, seriously heed the tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-08-13 01:32:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7956943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Trex_has_fleas/pseuds/My_Trex_has_fleas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim takes Ross to Florence for their first wedding anniversary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Happy Anniversary

**Author's Note:**

  * For [farraige25](https://archiveofourown.org/users/farraige25/gifts), [durinsprinces](https://archiveofourown.org/users/durinsprinces/gifts), [WithywindlesDaughter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WithywindlesDaughter/gifts).



> T/W for extreme violence and explicit sexual acts and sacriligious activities.

The hotel was old, a tiny stone building on a quiet square with a fountain in the centre that overlooked a church that Jim said had been built in the sixteenth century. They were greeted by a young woman who led them through the exquisitely appointed salon at the front of the hotel, which was furnished and appointed more in the style of a luxurious private home.

Their room was at the front overlooking the square. It had a scrolled iron Juliet balcony and a massive carved wooden bed. The bathroom was taken up mostly by a huge bath that could have happily contained four people. It made Ross smile. Jim was easily swayed by baths.

The receptionist opened the ceiling to floor windows and then the shutters and threw them open to let in the light and air. She ran through everything they needed to know, checked their breakfast order for the following morning (Jim had purposely booked a hotel that was incredibly discreet and expensive and served breakfast in their room every morning) and wished them a good stay before disappearing soundlessly and closed the door behind her.

Ross walked to the balcony and then turned to take in the room. Everything was perfect from the gloriously baroque painted ceiling to the crisp white bed linen. There was a small table and two chairs to his left, a cut glass vase full of deep wine red roses sitting on the polished wood surface.

He watched Jim lay their travel bags on the bench by the slatted wardrobe and then come over to him. He was immaculate, even after a ten hour flight and one hour taxi drive but then they had flown in first class much to Ross’ delight. Jim had given him an indulgent smile and told him nothing was too good for their first wedding anniversary.

The light was glorious, dust motes floating through the air and it painted Jim like an angel, his hair flaring into bright gold and his eyes turning aquamarine as it hit him. Ross leaned back against the balcony and waited, knowing that this was all part of the game.

‘You like it?’ Jim asked, one hand reaching out and his fingertips tracing lightly along the line of Ross’ jaw.

‘I love it.’ he replied. ‘It’s perfect.’

*********

They spent the rest of the afternoon in bed, a long leisurely fuck that led them to the shower and then to getting dressed for dinner. Ross cast a glance at Jim, perfectly attired in black suit trousers, offset by a snowy white shirt and tie that matched the roses. He glanced up at Ross and smiled and Ross went to him, taking the cufflinks from his hands and putting them in for him. They were one pair of the matching set that Emma had given them as a wedding present, white gold and inset with tiny diamonds and emeralds. They toned perfectly with his own suit, deep charcoal grey with a matching shirt and a subtly patterned tie of black watered silk, all chosen by his own hand. Two years of Jim’s impeccable taste had rubbed off on him.

They went downstairs together, holding hands and ignoring the rather startled look another pair of guests gave them as they went into the salon to wait for the taxi they had requested. There was an honesty bar and Jim poured them both a whisky to enjoy while they sat on one of the sofas and gave each other conspiratorial smiles and heated stares. Eventually the other couple left, spurred to unacceptable levels of discomfort when Jim had taken the empty glass from Ross' hand and leaned across to cup his jaw, kissing him with an easy intimacy that left the onlookers in no doubt as to their relationship.

Ross had expected him to stop once they left (making people uncomfortable was one of Jim’s favourite games) but instead Jim pressed in deeper, lightly licking at Ross’ mouth until he opened it and let Jim’s tongue in to map out his mouth in that leisurely way that made Ross heart skip.

A quiet cough alerted them to the arrival of their taxi and they left the hotel, riding across the city to a beautiful white and stone building, the impressive façade studded with windows spilling over with golden light. Jim got out first, paying the driver and then coming around to open Ross’ door. It had always been a little strange at first for Ross to be treated with such deference but he had long gotten used to Jim’s rather sweet old-fashioned notions of chivalry and gentlemanly behaviour. He’d even managed to pick up a few himself.

They walked in, Jim affecting his usual air of quiet arrogance that allowed him to fit in with any company, and the doorman ushered them in. Ross looked around him, dazzled by the elegant surroundings he found himself in. They were greeted by the maitre d’ and he checked their booking and then summoned a waiter to escort them to their table. It was in a smaller room to the side of the main dining hall, seven circular tables for two all dressed in white with blue brocade armchairs. The lights were dimmed, a branched candlestick with red candles at the doorway acting like a beacon to guide them in.

They were seated and Ross smiled and took in the tables settings, the heavy silver ware gleaming in the candlelight. There was a small silver jug as well, filled with tiny pink rosebuds. He was utterly entranced and looked up to see Jim smiling at him.

‘I never get tired of seeing that.’ he said and Ross gave him a quizzical look.

‘What?’ he asked and Jim laughed.

‘That look of absolute childlike delight on your face.’ he replied. ‘It’s one of the reasons I do this.’ He looked up and gestured for the wine list now being presented by the waiter that had reappeared to be given to Ross. They had already decided on the eight course tasting menu which had to be pre-ordered and Jim now deferred to him whenever wine needed to be ordered. Ross took his time, perusing at length and then making his selections for the wine flight that would accompany their meal. He spoke to the waiter in Italian, somewhat less fluent than his French but more than passable. Jim meanwhile sat with his chin resting on his hand, one finger curled across his mouth, and listened to him, approval glittering in his eyes.

‘You are utterly breathtaking.’ he said once the waiter stepped away to get their first round of drinks and Ross raised his eyebrows at him.

‘Am I now?’ he asked, injecting just enough of a tease into his voice and inwardly delighting at the way Jim’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

‘Haven’t you noticed?’ he said and Ross smiled at him, love and happiness overflowing from every pore.

‘Maybe, but tell me again.’ he said, gently kicking his foot up against Jim’s under the table.

**********

Dinner took four hours to be completed and they were one of the last tables to leave. Ross was verging on tipsy, full and blissfully happy as they set out on a slow walk back to the hotel. The September night was pleasantly cool and dry, the moonlight bright as they held hands and meandered along.

It took about forty-five minutes to get back to the hotel, with plenty of stops in darkened doorways to kiss and rile each other up. By the time they got to the square, Ross was half-hard and giggling as Jim pressed him against the wall and kissed him forcefully, one hand on his cock and the other tangled in Ross’ hair.

‘I am going to fuck you so hard.’ he breathed in Ross ear and Ross panted, pushing up into Jim’s hand. He tugged at Jim’s jacket, wanting to leave and get inside the hotel so Jim could tear his clothes off him and make good on his threat. Jim chuckled, low in his chest, and squeezed just hard enough to make Ross keen.

He was about to reply with something suitably filthy that would enrage Jim enough to ensure his arse got severely pounded later when Jim stopped, his head turned to look out into the darkened square.

‘Someone’s there.’ he hissed and pulled back. ‘Let’s get inside.’ Ross stifled his disappointed whine and allowed Jim to pull him out of the doorway. They walked across the pavement onto the cobbled surface of the square and that was when they saw the front door of the church open and a figure silhouetted in the doorway. It was dressed in a long black cassock and Ross assumed it was the priest for the church obviously leaving for the evening. He switched off the lights and started walking towards them, passing them and inclining his head in greeting.

‘Buonasera signori.’ he said and they replied in kind. It was only when they were a couple of steps behind him that Jim suddenly stopped and turned to look at the retreating outline of the priest between the buildings. Ross was pulled off balance and stopped as well.

‘Jim?’ he asked. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing.’ Jim said, but he didn’t sound convinced. ‘He just sounded like someone I knew a long time ago.’

‘A good someone?’ Ross asked.

‘No.’ Jim replied, still sounding thoughtful. ‘Not a good someone.’ He took Ross’ hand. ‘Come on, baby. Let’s go to bed.’

They got upstairs and Ross was about to switch the lights on when Jim moved to pin him up against the wall, one hand to his throat. Ross drew in a sharp breath, pulse spiking as Jim tightened his fingers just enough to inhibit his airflow.

‘You feel like playing?’ he asked and Ross let the breath out again, slow and shuddering in the quiet of the room.

‘Yes.’ he whispered and Jim stepped away from him.

‘Clothes.’ he said, his voice curt. ‘Then get on the bed.’

Ross did as instructed. He undressed, taking his time to hang up his clothes and go into the bathroom to clean up. When he came out he was naked and hard. Jim had shucked his jacket and tie and was busy rolling up his sleeves. Ross walked past him and Jim stepped in once, breathing in and Ross knew he was catching his scent, like an animal on the prowl. It still excited him enormously and as he climbed onto the bed he heard Jim move behind him. There was the hiss of a match and then a flare of the small group of candles that had mysteriously appeared on the small table near the tall windows. They were votive candles, a collection of saints painted on the outside in cheap glass paint. Ross bit his lip and waited. He was kneeling facing the headboard and then Jim came to stand behind him, heels clicking on the polished wooden floor.

‘Show me.’ he said and Ross moved to all fours, spreading his legs to expose himself to Jim’s eyes. He dropped his head, moving to lean on his elbows and breathed in deeply when he felt Jim’s hand, warm and assured, moved over his back and down his spine until it came to rest on his backside. His cock was painfully hard and Jim reached between his legs with his other hand and took hold of him. Ross moaned and pushed into his hand.

‘Please.’ It was a single soft word and Jim’s hand moved gently along him.

‘Slowly baby.’ he said and then he let go. ‘Safeword.’ Ross whined in disappointment but it was shortlived as he felt Jim’s hand stroking his back.

‘Bronx.’ he said and Jim lifted his hand. Ross heard the sound of him moving back to the table. There was the soft snick of a knife being opened and Ross gripped the bedcovers under his hands, knowing what was coming. It was only a little bit of pain, Jim refusing to hurt him seriously no matter how much he begged, but it was enough. He felt his heart starting to pound and waited for Jim to come back. The first burn was to the back of his thigh, the knife heated over the candles until it scorched and left a red mark but didn’t blister. It was enough to start his adrenaline flowing and he moaned aloud.

There was another and another up in a neat line, four in total. By the end of it, Ross was whining as his body was suffused with pain and pleasure. Then Jim started on the other thigh and Ross cried out at the first touch of the knife against his skin.

‘Still okay, baby?’ Jim’s voice was perfectly modulated.

‘Yes.’ Ross raised his head a little. ‘It’s just really good.’

Jim marked him four times on the other leg as well and then stopped, leaving them to smart. The friction when he finally climbed on the bed behind Ross would take the pain back up again, just enough to make the inevitable climax brilliantly intense.

He stayed in place, thighs trembling with a combination of the sting and the anticipation of what Jim would do to him. Sometimes it was nothing, a long wait while Jim simply stood and looked at him. Sometimes it was rough, a hard fuck that had no preamble or foreplay. He could never predict what Jim was going to do until he did it.

He felt the tip of the now cooled knife trailing up the back of his thigh and sighed, his tension peaking as it ran in, impossibly light. Jim’s other hand was on him now, pulling him open. The knife danced perilously close, the irregular texture of the skin in his most intimate area making it hazardous and yet Jim had never ever cut him. It was one of his favourite fantasies, one confessed in the dark and told in graphic detail.

‘You like this.’ Jim’s voice was low. ‘You want me to cut you here.’ The knife drifted in and out again, running up the slope of his rear to the think skin of his lower back.

‘Yes.’ Ross was hoarse with arousal.

‘What else would you want me to do with it?’ Jim asked and Ross squeezed his eyes shut, glorious images of Jim taking the knife and sinking the blade deep inside him, fucking him with it until he was a bloody mess of shredded flesh making him whimper.

‘Put it inside me.’ He was not above begging, not for this. ‘Fuck me with it. Please.’ Jim chuckled, a low rich sound. He tapped Ross’ backside with the flat of the blade.

‘And then?’ he asked. The next part was for both of them.

‘Then fuck me.’ Ross was almost out of his mind with want. The image of Jim fucking him like that, his blood slicking the way inside him was almost too much. ‘I want you inside me. I want you to fuck me until I hurt.’

He tracked the subtle change in Jim’s breathing and then he was left to wait again, the sound of Jim undressing behind him a prelude to what was coming. He barely heard Jim come back, his naturally light footsteps almost inaudible and Ross shivered. Underneath all Jim’s impeccable manners and urbane charm was the reminder that he was still a predator, sharp teeth hidden but ready to be bared at a moment’s notice.

He waited for the click of a lid, the slow drizzled of lube over his exposed skin but it never came. Instead he felt the bed dip in front of him and looked up to see Jim sitting, back against the headboard. He beckoned and Ross rose onto his knees and shuffled forward until he was astride him. Jim reached down, his fingers running up the backs of Ross’ thighs and Ross hissed at the tiny flares of pain. He tipped his head back, letting himself moan with every touch of Jim’s hands.

They came forward over his hips and held him still as Jim leaned forward to lick at his nipples, slow meditative movements that wet his skin and made him tingle. Ross braced himself against the headboard, arms corralling Jim inside them and Jim took his left nipple in his mouth and tongued it until it felt like all the feeling in Ross’ body was centred there. Then he moved to the other one, his fingers taking the place of his mouth as he repeated the treatment.

Ross stayed in place, balanced on his knees and his head bowed over Jim’s, both arms moving to steady himself on Jim’s broad shoulders. He was leaking onto Jim’s stomach, his cock aligned with Jim’s and every slick push against each other brought him a little closer. He wanted nothing more than to take them both in his hand, bring them off together, but he knew that if he did he would have to wait even longer and he wanted Jim’s cock in him when he came.

Jim finally lifted his head, giving Ross’ right nipple a last lick before he held up his hand and Ross spat into it. Jim then did what he had wanted, his wet hand going around them both and slicking them up with the saliva and pre-come as he pushed and pulled at them both. His other hand found their lube, still lost in the folds of the bed linen from the afternoon and handed it to Ross. Ross took it, no words passing between them as he opened it and coated his fingers. He discarded the tube and then reached behind himself to sink two fingers in. It took barely a minute to open himself up, still loose from the extended activities of that afternoon.

Jim let them go and pulled him into place and Ross sand down, Jim’s cock breaching him and going all the way in. It felt as good as it always did, the slow drag if the thickness in and out of him catching on the rim of his body and skating over his prostate on the push back inside. Jim’s hand was back on his chest and a sharp pinch to his nipple had Ross keening.

‘Hands on me.’ Jim said sternly and Ross moved his hands to Jim’s shoulder once more and kept moving. He bore down each time he lowered, watching Jim’s pupils dilate as he looked up at him. Ross wanted to go faster and his eagerness must have shown in his face because Jim too hold of his hips again and kept him slow.

‘Please.’ Ross knew he shouldn’t but he couldn’t stop himself.

‘Slowly, baby.’ Jim had a ghost of smile on his face, dimples just flickering. ‘Slow and easy.’

‘I don’t want slow.’ he replied, the stroppiness in his voice unmissable.

It was a mistake.

The sudden force of the hand in his hair was breathtaking, the pain flaring through his scalp like lightning in his veins. Ross was hauled off physically, thrown down on the bed and shoved over onto his stomach. He couldn’t move, couldn’t fight back as one arm was twisted so that he was immobilised and then Jim was there between his legs, thrusting in so hard that it shunted Ross face first into the bed. Jim was relentless, merciless in his attentions and the sheer physical strength of his thrusts knocked Ross into stunned silence.

He couldn’t speak, not to protest or entreat or beg. All he could do was open his mouth and let out the feral sounds inside him, Jim’s cock driving him to oblivion as he soared on the edge of a spectacular orgasm, driving in so deep that it was the only thing that Ross could feel. The pain of his burned skin was gone, replaced by searing pleasure that shut out everything else.

The end came with silence, all his faculties shutting down until there nothing but the muffled sound of Jim’s cry and his own blood pounding in his ears. He didn’t even register that Jim had pulled out and come across his back until a few minutes after he came down from his own climax.

Ross lay on the bed, not moving as Jim climbed off. He wallowed in his afterglow, a smile on his face as he simply let the endorphins fill him to the brim.

A warm cloth on his skin brought him halfway back to consciousness, and Ross almost purred as Jim cleaned him up. There was the soft touch of his hands as he coated the burns on Ross’ thighs in ointment, a sweet smelling concoction of Jim’s own recipe that he made for Ross down in the dark. He was lifted and moved into place, draped languidly over the pillows and Jim removed the soiled bedspread and chucked it in a heap on the floor, then dragged the sheet over him.

‘Where are you going?’ he asked a little plaintively and Jim smiled.

‘To bath.’ he replied. ‘You didn’t think I booked a room with an oversized bath just to look at it did you?’

‘No.’ Ross pouted at him. ‘No bath. Only snuggles.’

‘You sound like a five year old.’ Jim countered but he came back to the bed. He got in next to Ross, making a small throne of pillows for himself before sitting back and letting Ross drape himself over his chest. He rested one hand on Ross shoulder, pulling him in close, and stroked through his sweat damp curls.

‘I love you.’ Ross was drifting off. He felt Jim’s lips press against his forehead.

‘I love you too.’ he replied. Ross was almost asleep when something flickered in the back of his head.

‘When you say a not good someone…’ he started and felt Jim smile against the top of his head.

‘Go to sleep baby.’ he replied. ‘I’ll tell you in the morning.’

Ross closed his eyes and slept.


	2. L'Amour (et La Mort) Est Belle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sightseeing is done and plans are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> T/W for mentions of sexual abuse of children.

Jim woke up the next morning to the sound of whistling. It was surreal, one moment lying in bed next to his gently snoring husband and the next knocked back seventeen years to an office, the windows and doors closed against the sound of boys playing outside.

_He remembered the smell of incense clinging to the man’s clothes. He was handsome, sharp cut cheekbones and dark eyes under arched brows. He’d spoken with a beautiful modulation to his voice and all the mothers had sighed behind their hands when he’d passed them at teacher-parent evenings._

_Now he stood, his handsome face creased in pain and anger at the child in front of him._

_Jim stood and stared at the hilt of the little sword that protruded from the man’s thigh. He’d known something was wrong when Father Vincenzo had taken him into his office on the pretext of talking about his forthcoming transfer. Jim had been at St Anthony’s for two years now and he’d also been Richie’s best friend and confidant._

_He knew what Father Vincenzo did to boys in his office._

_The first touch in a place that Jim knew nobody had the right to touch him had prompted swift action. He had always admired the tiny sword on the priest’s desk, had dearly wanted to lift it in his hand and maybe play with it._

_It had seemed only right that he use it to defend himself._

Afterwards there had been many harsh words and repercussions. Jim learned later that Silver had bought the school’s silence about Jim stabbing one of his teachers by allowing the man to retire quietly and threatening everyone else with litigation. Jim had looked for him every time he’d gone to Europe in the hope that one day he would run across the man that had hurt his brother. He knew that a lot of why Richie was the way he was, was due to those long afternoons in Father Vincenzo’s office, a truth that Richie still had trouble dealing with. Jim was certain that he was the only one that Richie had ever told about it.

He got up, walking soundlessly to the open windows. It had been hot during the night and he’d gotten up to throw them open at one point. He stood, concealed by the drape of a curtain, and looked down into the square.

The figure was more rotund than Jim recalled, weight gain due to overindulgence and age combining to make a man that was stout in his black cassock. His face was shaded by a wide brimmed hat, but Jim knew it was him. He saw a woman crossing the square and pushing a bicycle and she stopped to talk to the priest and he tipped his hat back exposing his face.

There was no doubting it. He was older and his hair looked grey, but it was Father Vincenzo.

Jim smiled.

There was a discreet knock at the door and Jim retreated into the room. He went to grab a bathrobe from behind the bathroom door and wrapped himself in it, then went to open the door. A man was there with an old fashioned mahogany food trolley.

‘Good morning.’ he said and Jim returned the greeting and let him in. The waiter wheeled the trolley to the table, his face settling in an expression of surprise at the sight of a dishevelled and very fucked out looking Ross turning over and half sitting up in bed. He unloaded the trolley and started setting the table for breakfast.

Ross watched the process in interest and Jim smiled at the sight of him. His dark curls were wild, his face shaded by stubble and the snowy white sheets contrasted exquisitely with his olive skin and the dark hair that furred his chest and stomach.

‘Tell me.’ Jim said to the waiter, finally tearing his eyes away and going to retrieve a tip from his wallet on the bedside table. ‘The church across the way…?’

‘Santa Maria di Callisti.’ the man said. His voice was soft and accented. ‘It is small but very beautiful inside. I would recommend your visit.’

‘I saw the priest arrive.’ Jim said, still deceptively casual in his interest.

‘Si. Padre Vincenzo Costallato. He has been here a few years only.’ the waiter said. He finished his task and Jim handed him his tip. The waiter thanked him politely and scurried back to the door, still avoiding looking at Ross too obviously.

Once he was gone and the door firmly shut behind him Jim went to the bed, discarding the robe as he went and climbed back in next to Ross. Ross tilted his face up for a kiss and received one.

‘And that?’ he asked, still sleepy. Jim smiled.

‘A diversion.’ he said.

***********

They went to the Accedemia and Uffizi galleries after breakfast. Ross let Jim tow him along, fingers loosely linked through his, and listened attentively as Jim spoke about the art they were looking at. He was not particularly informed when it came to art, although even if he had been he would have been content to listen to Jim anyway. His husband had a way of speaking about the pieces he loved that made him light up and Ross loved it, even if he’d gotten a backhand for laughing at the fact that David’s cock was small. They were now standing at the Birth of Venus in the Uffizi and Jim was talking about pigments and the exquisite nature of the shading and the challenge of restoring something from that period. Ross was not really listening, preferring to watch how animated Jim was, his love of art coming out in his voice. It was bordering on passionate, his normal polite reservation gone in the face of one of his favourite things. Eventually he turned and Ross realised that he’d been addressed, although he was at a complete loss at to what Jim had just asked him. In the face of being caught red-handed so to speak he did the only sensible thing and snogged him in front of the Botticelli. Jim then spent the rest of their visit snickering and trying to catch him out so Ross would do it again and Ross happily obliged. By the time they were done, they had kissed in every room.

They left and came out into the sunshine and Ross stretched, feeling Jim’s hand surreptitiously slip over the line of exposed skin at his flank. He smiled at him and put his arm around Jim’s shoulders and Jim fitted easily underneath it. They fell into step with each other as they wandered down towards the Arno, enjoying the weather and each other’s company. They crossed the Ponte Vecchio, window shopping and stopping midway and asking a pair of Japanese tourists to take a picture of them together with the river in the background.

They got to the other side and took the Via de Guicciardini. Ross was expecting them to go into the Palazzo Pitti, but to his surprise they went past it. He gave Jim a questioning look and Jim smiled enigmatically at him.

‘You’ll see.’ he said. ‘But lunch first.’ They stopped at a small restaurant called La Mangiatoia and had carpaccio, margherita pizzas, tiramisu and beer in the courtyard out the back so Ross could smoke. He knew that Jim was relaxed when he stole one of his cigarettes after lunch and sat back with his face in the sun. He had his mirrored sunglasses on, but Ross could tell he had his eyes closed. He smiled and rubbed the toe of his trainer along Jim’s shin.

‘So where exactly are we going?’ he asked.

‘Surprise.’ Jim replied, exhaling a stream of smoke lazily into the air. ‘Don’t be so nosy.’ The waiter came over and they ordered espressos. Ross chucked three lumps of sugar in his and Jim snorted.

‘You’re going to be buzzing all night.’ he said and Ross kicked him under the table.

‘Then you’ll just have to keep me entertained.’ he replied. ‘Maybe break that big bathtub in.’ He gave Jim a grin that bordered on shameless and Jim gave him a speculative look over his sunglasses.

‘Maybe.’ he said and pushed them back up his nose.

They left the retsurant and Jim led him along the road to Via Romana, a narrow street that didn’t look like it harboured anything of obvious interest. That was until they got about fifty yards down and Ross saw a sand coloured building on their left, a massive pair of wooden doors standing open to reveal a paved entrance. There was sign that proclaimed it to be the Museo Di Storia Naturale.

‘This used to be the Palazzo Torrigani.’ Jim said. ‘Now it’s part of the Natural History Museum.’

Yeah, I got that bit.’ Ross said, grinning and pointing at the sign. ‘Still doesn’t answer the question as to why.’

‘Inside.’ Jim said, taking one of Ross’ hands in both of his and walked backwards into the entrance, pulling Ross with him. ‘There’s something in here that you’re going to fucking love.’

‘Well, now I’m intrigued.’ Ross said and followed him.

The museum itself was almost empty as they wandered through. Ross was enjoying himself, stopping frequently to peer in the glass cases at the animals and geological specimens. They got to the long gallery, the sides composed of glassed cases filled with skeletons and a line of assembled skeletons down the middle.

‘You’re right.’ Ross said, smiling happily at Jim. ‘I do love it.’

‘I knew you would.’ Jim said, just a hint of smugness. There was nobody with them, so he caught Ross hand and pulled him in to kiss him. It was lingering and Ross let Jim coax his mouth open and deepen the kiss until he was a little lightheaded.

‘Have you ever done it in a museum?’ he breathed against Jim’s mouth and got a soft chuckle in reply.

‘No.’ Jim replied, pushing him away gently. ‘And we’re not going to. At least not until I’ve shown you what we came here for.’

‘Definitely intrigued.’ Ross said. ‘It must be good if you’re turning down the opportunity to fuck me in a room full of dead things.’ He laughed as Jim huffed affectionately at him and tugged on his hand. They walked into the next room and he suddenly stopped, his breath taken away as he looked around him in startled delight. The white walls were lined with anatomical prints and shelves on which were cases filled with detailed waxworks, anatomical in nature ad depicting organs and cross-sections of animals and the human body. They drew Ross in like a magnet and he got lost in their fine details, making little sounds of delight as he explored them all. Jim stood back and watched him, dimples hovering. The most intriguing were the flat cases, displaying full scale models of human bodies bare of their skins to reveal the delicate network of blood vessels and musculature underneath. He stood and ran his fingers delicately over the glass and Jim let him take his time.

Ross was utterly entranced as they walked from the first room into the second but when they got to the third, Jim came up behind him and put his hands over Ross’ eyes. Ross laughed and let Jim guide him forward until they stopped and Jim leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to the side of his neck.

‘And here we are.’ he murmured. He lowered his hands but Ross kept his eyes closed waiting for the command to open them. He felt Jim’s hands run down his sides and come to rest on his hips. ‘Open.’ Ross opened his eyes, the fluorescent lighting above him making him blink and then he gasped aloud as he saw what lay before him.

The glass cases here contained long pillows of violet silk and reclining on them were the figures of young women in poses that bordered on erotic. Their smooth wax skin had a delicate cast to it, their eyes hooded and lips tinted pink and parted ever so slightly and their slender limbs slayed in attitudes of lassitude that gave them a languid air that made them seem alive. That alone would have made them irresistible to look at but it was their torsos, split open to reveal their internal organs artfully arranged, that made Ross’ breath catch.

‘They’re beautiful.’ he breathed, and Jim came to stand beside him.

‘They were a favourite of the Marquis de Sade.’ he said, looking at Ross intently. ‘I am glad you like them.’ Ross turned to him, hands cupping Jim’s face and kissing him.

‘I love them and I love you.’ he declared and Jim smiled and stood on his toes to kiss the tip of Ross’ nose.

‘Good.’ he replied. ‘I’d hate to think I brought you all the way to Florence for nothing.

**********

They got back to the hotel as the sun was going down and went upstairs to take a long bath and order in a light dinner.

Ross was in the tub, bubbles up to his chin and waiting for Jim to join him. From where he was sitting he had a clear view of the open doors and he regarded Jim as he stood at the balcony. Jim was looking down into the square, his gaze watchful and intense and Ross shivered in spite of the hot water. He knew that look.

‘Who is he?’ he asked and Jim looked at him. ‘You promised to tell me.’

‘He’s a teacher from St Anthony’s.’ Jim replied and Ross’ ears pricked up. ‘he tried to sexually assault me when I was twelve.’

‘Jesus.’ Ross stared at him, mouth open. ‘What the fuck did you do?’

‘Stabbed him in the leg with a letter opener in the shape of an ornamental sword.’ Jim replied. ‘John got me out of it by pointing out that if they called social services on me he’d call the cops on them. Not very good having a paedophile on the payroll.’ He walked away from the windows, shedding his clothes as he approached the door.

‘He didn’t do anything though, did he?’ Ross asked, sitting forward in the tub as Jim came into the bathroom. He watched Jim strip off his jeans and underwear and then he came to get in behind Ross. The water level rose alarmingly and then stabilised as he made himself comfortable. Ross shifted back, pulling a face at how the water lapped at the edge and Jim let him lean back against him. He reached for the tray on the small table next to the bath that held the complimentary toiletries and rifled through them. They were all from Santa Maria Novella and he picked out the shampoo and then tapped Ross on the head.

Ross sank down in the water, feeling Jim move one hand to cradle his neck so he could wet his hair and then came back up. He wiped the excess water from his face and Jim uncapped the shampoo and emptied some into his hand. It smelt lovely, a fragrance he recognised immediately.

‘Pomegranates?’ he asked and Jim chuckled.

‘Fitting isn’t it?’ he asked and then started to work the shampoo into Ross’ thick hair. ‘Maybe I should start calling you Persephone. And in answer to your question, no he did nothing to me. But I was lucky.’

‘There were others?’ Ross half turned and Jim turned him back. He worked from the base of Ross’ skull up, thumbs massaging away the tension and washing his hair at the same time.

‘Richie.’ he said and this time Ross turned all the way around to look at him in shock, making the water finally overlap and hit the floor.

‘Fuck.’ he said, not quite sure what else to say.

‘Richie’s never told me the whole story and as far as I know I am the only one he’s ever told anything. When it all kicked off and they were asking who had been molested by Vincenzo he always maintained he hadn’t.’ Jim said, his normally inscrutable face set in an expression of what was remarkably close to anguish. ‘I have no idea how far it went but as far as I could tell it started when he was about ten and stopped only when Vincenzo was fired.’

‘Jesus.’ Ross was at a loss. ‘That’s fucking awful.’

‘It was.’ Jim turned him back around and carried on washing his hair. ‘I looked for him for a long time. We knew he’d come to Europe but I could never track him down. I always hoped that one day I would find him and finish what I started.’ He let those words hang in the air, his fingers moving in a hypnotic rhythm over the crown of Ross’ head.

‘And now he’s just across the street.’ Ross said, taking the cue from the question in Jim’s voice. ‘It’s almost like its fate.’ He didn’t need to turn around to know that Jim was smiling behind him.

‘Only if you think it won’t interfere with our anniversary.’ he replied. ‘Rinse.’

Ross went back down and Jim used his free hand to gently work the suds out of his hair, tipping him back up when he was done.

‘On the contrary.’ he replied. ‘It sounds like fun.’

*********

They didn’t go out into the city the next day. Instead they sat and watched the priest’s movements before going down to the church at midday to check things out.

The wooden doors were closed when they got there and Jim pushed one open and they went inside. The church itself was deceptive, much larger than its façade would suggest. It led back towards a raised dias, the stark white walls contrasting with the plain wooden pews and pine strip floors. They walked down the aisle until they got close enough to see the altar, a solid block draped in white and with the typical gilded accoutrements laid out on it. There was a wooden door to the right and it opened as they got there.

Ross noticed the sudden tension in Jim’s shoulders, but it was fleeting. Jim shrugged it off in a second and put on his friendliest smile as the priest looked up from closing the door and noticed them.

‘Buongiorno.’ he said, and then frowned a little. Ross could see that he was still a handsome man, his fine features not lost even though he was aged.

‘Good day Father Vincenzo.’ Jim said, his voice as pleasant as ever. ‘We just came in to look at the church. We were advised that it was worth a visit.’

‘You are at the hotel?’ Vincenzo asked, his English accented but flawless. His eyes were very dark and very bright, like a bird’s eyes. He seemed so pleasant and innocuous that Ross was finding it hard to equate him with what Jim had told him. But then he reasoned that predators came in all shapes and sizes.

After all he was one of them.

‘We are.’ Jim said, still smiling. ‘We’re here on holiday.’

‘British?’ Vincenzo asked and Jim nodded.

‘From London.’ he said. ‘Just over for few days.’

‘Well what’s up here is not much to see.’ Vincenzo replied. ‘What you want is down here.’ He gestured to the door. ‘I am very seldom given a chance to show visitors around. Sadly our little church does not feature on the tourist trail, more‘s the pity.’ He opened the door and beckoned. ‘Come.’ Ross looked at Jim and Jim looked back and nodded imperceptibly.

They followed him down a curved medieval staircase of light stone, the air cooling as they got further below the building. At the bottom of the flight of stairs was an iron gate and Vincenzo took a ring of keys from his robes and opened it. He went in and they came in behind him. They were in darkness but Vincenzo reached for a light switch just inside the gate and turned the lights on, flooding the small room with light.

The floor here was stone, smooth and polished. But it was the walls that were of interest and Ross couldn’t help but stare.

‘What is this?’ he asked and Jim smiled at him.

‘It’s an ossuary.’ he replied. ‘A place where the bones of the dead are stored once they come out of the ground.’ He looked at Vincenzo, still playing the tourist. ‘Am I right?’

‘Si.’ Vincenzo replied. ‘It is.’ He gestured to the walls. ‘Many many souls find their final rest here.’

Ross looked at the walls and noticed that there was a repeated pattern of skulls and the ends of femurs layered to form a dense wall on each side. Overhead the beams of the ceiling were similarly decorated. The wall at the far end was just skulls, a beautifully grotesque display that was the backdrop to another altar. This was plain wood, and the religious artefacts on it were limited to a chalice and a chrismatory in gilded metal.

Ross knew the moment they had come down that Vincenzo’s fate was now sealed. He looked at Jim, but all Jim’s attention was on the priest. Ross stood by as they talked at length about the church’s history and the ossuary and he was once again amazed at his husband’s ability to get just what he needed without raising the slightest bit of suspicion. In the course of a fifteen minute conversation, Jim managed to ascertain what time the church was open and what time it closed. He also ascertained that there were no services for the next three days, which was actually bought up by Vincenzo who told Jim he was going to the countryside for a little retreat the next morning and so the church would only be open again on the Saturday evening.

‘Are you going to another parish?’ Jim asked innocently and for the first time Vincenzo looked a little shifty to Ross’ now expert eye.

‘A personal matter requires my attendance.’ he said. ‘It is most fortunate that you caught me today if you are leaving soon.’

‘It certainly is.’ Jim replied. ‘I am very glad we got to see this, aren’t you?’ he smiled at Ross and Ross smiled back.

‘It’s very interesting.’ he replied.

They took their leave of the priest and his ossuary and went back upstairs. Vincenzo locked the gate behind them and followed, waving them off when they got back into the church. They went outside and Ross could see that Jim’s mind was already in overdrive.

‘Tonight?’ he asked and Jim reached for his hand.

‘We need to go shopping first.’ he said, his blue-green eyes already sharp and full of excitement. ‘But tonight seems as good a time as any.’


	3. Damnation and Ecstasy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot stress enough the warnings on this one. Not for anyone that has even the slightest trigger for blood and violence. It's also very heavy on the blasphemous acts as well so be aware of this and proceed with caution.
> 
> Lyrics from House of Wolves by My Chemical Romance. Ross is a fan :)

_Well, I know a thing about contrition,_  
_Because I got enough to spare._  
_And I'll be granting your permission,_  
_'Cause you haven't got a prayer._  
_Well I said hey, hey hallelujah,_  
_I'm gonna come on sing the praise._  
_And let the spirit come on through ya,_  
_We got innocence for days!_  
  
_Well, I think I'm gonna burn in hell,_  
_Everybody burn the house right down._

_And I said, say,_  
_What I wanna say_  
_Tell me I'm an angel,_  
_Take this to my grave._  
_Tell me I'm a bad man,_  
_Kick me like a stray._  
_Tell me I'm an angel,_  
_Take this to my grave._

The waiting was the worst part, but two years had given Ross more patience that he’d had when they first met, and taking him shopping was a good distraction. They trawled through alleys and piazzas, and Jim stopped so Ross could get gelato and then laughed when he kissed him, tasting like chocolate and hazelnuts and his mouth chilled from the ice cream.

It was fun, just two people in love walking in the afternoon and enjoying each other’s company. And if the items in their shopping bags included some rather unorthodox souvenirs (all paid for in cash and in tiny shops that had probably never heard of CCTV in their lives) then who was to know or even care.

All the while the intensity built slowly, the anticipation in his stomach a delicious churn that made Jim’s senses heighten, his reflexes sharpening. He could smell the same excitement coming off Ross, a subtle change in his husband’s body chemistry that only he could detect.

The sun was dipping below the horizon when they got back and they went upstairs. Jim spoke briefly to the woman on duty and ordered them dinner to be bought up to the room. It would make a good set up and they had plans to make sure that the hotel staff would be convinced that they had spent the entire evening in there.

Vincenzo had told them earlier that he closed the church at ten, and the night before he’d left around eleven. The plan was for Jim to slip out unnoticed and follow him when he left while Ross waited for him. Then he would go down to join him once Jim had Vincenzo secured in the ossuary where the main event would take place. They unpacked the shopping bags onto the bed, souvenirs and gifts for Emma, Jana and Cilla and various other people intermingling with a roll of duct tape, a pack of surgical gloves from a pharmacia, antiseptic wipes, a disposable camera and three tins of lighter fluid. There was no conversation between them other than a comment or two as to the suitability of the gifts they had bought and what they had seen that day.

Jim went to pick his travel bag up from the floor of the wardrobe and carried it over to the bed. Even though it was checked luggage he took no chances and he reached inside popping the false bottom and taking out one of the two knives he had stashed in there. It was the Spyderco Civilian Ross had given him for Christmas on the very memorable trip to Miami and he smiled as he weighed it in his hand and thought about how that trip had turned out before he took out Ross’ knife and handed it to him. Ross had noticed him looking at it and smiled as he accepted his, the same knife that he’d used the night they had gone to rescue Carmen.

‘I think about that.’ he said. ‘That night.’ He looked at Jim. ‘I was already in love with you but that night kind of made me see who you really are a little bit.’

‘And?’ Jim slipped the knife into the back pocket of his jeans.

‘And that just made me realise that there will never be anyone else for me.’ Ross replied. ‘That’s why I said yes.’ Their eyes met across the bed.

We have time.’ Ross said. ‘You want to get drunk and fool around?’ It was a line he’d picked up from one of Jim’s favourite films and it was now a shared thing between them. Jim moved to clear the bed, and Ross helped until they could get on, kicking off their shoes and settling in together on their sides and facing each other. Jim lay on one arm and stroked Ross’ hair back from his face with the other.

‘I love you.’ he said and Ross gave him a quicksilver smile, then his face fell into a more serious expression.

‘I think about it sometimes.’ he said and Jim frowned.

‘What baby?’ he asked and Ross caught his hand and kissed his fingertips.

‘What we would do if we ever got caught.’ he said and Jim took his hand back and used it to run the backs of his fingers along Ross’ cheekbone, then traced the scar down his face. He could now pick up the little trace of nerves, something that Ross got when they hunted in unfamiliar surroundings. He’d used to hide it under bluff and bluster before but now he wasn’t afraid of being vulnerable in front of Jim and it made him love Ross even more.

‘You’re nervous.’ he said and Ross shrugged. ‘Don’t be.’

‘They’d separate us.’ Ross said. ‘Put us in different places.’ His hazel eyes were dark when he looked at Jim. ‘I couldn’t live without you.’

‘I’d kill both of us before I let that happen.’ Jim said. ‘You know I wouldn’t let anyone separate us. Ever.’ He leaned over the gap between them and kissed Ross gently, and he felt him relax under his touch. ‘We go to hell together, you and me.’ Ross moved to rest his head to Jim’s chest, one arm around him.

‘I love you too.’ he said and Jim squeezed him once.

‘Sleep a bit.’ he said, kissing the top of Ross’ head. ‘I’ll wake you when it’s time.’

*********

Jim got up at just after ten. They had been lying on the bed, him reading and Ross playing endless rounds of Candy Crush on his tablet. They had eaten dinner and now it was time to set up their alibi.

Ross undressed and Jim took out the tie he’d worn the night before. He waited for Ross to pull the bedcovers off and get onto the bed. He made himself comfortable and Jim moved to straddle him, tying Ross’ wrists to the slats in the headboard. Ross grinned up at him, dark eyes sparkling. All his nervousness was now gone, replaced by the excitement of what was to come. He gave a playful thrust of his hips up into Jim, dislodging him slightly and getting a bop on the nose for his trouble.

‘Later.’ Jim said, trying to keep his voice stern and failing miserably. He could feel Ross already getting hard under him, conditioned to what they were doing, what was coming later.

‘Not even a five minute handjob?’ he asked, trying to kiss Jim and making Jim have to move around to avoid him. ‘You know it won’t slow me down. One of the benefits of still being in my twenties.’

‘Brat.’ Jim laughed. ‘You’re going with that?’ The fact that he had turned thirty was a source of great amusement to Ross and he never failed to take a chance to rub it in. ‘Because I think later it’s you who’s going to have to keep up.’ He smiled at Ross and Ross bit his lower lip, gazing flirtaciously up at him through his lashes.

‘Bring it, old man.’ he said, voice deepening. ‘If you think you can take me.’ Jim narrowed his eyes at him and then reached down between them. Ross let out a moan the second Jim touched him, cock hard and straining for release. Jim tightened his grip on him and the moan turned into a whine.

‘Look at you.’ he breathed over Ross’ mouth. ‘You’re such a fucking whore.’ He moved his hand up and down, the slip-slide of Ross’ foreskin aided by how wet he was already. ‘Maybe I’ll go by myself tonight. Make you wait for me here.’

‘No.’ It was a soft, desperate plea. ‘Please Jim, take me with you.’ Ross had his eyes open again, giving Jim that look which he knew would get him anything he asked for. ‘I’ll behave.’ He gave Jim a soft smile, already blurry with pleasure as Jim kept moving his hand.

‘You'd better.’ Jim said and then let him go. Ross’ expression changed to one of adorable confusion and then complete outrage as Jim got off the bed.

‘You son of a bitch.’ he said. ‘You can’t leave me like this.’

‘I certainly can.’ Jim said. He went into the bathroom to wash his hands off and came back out. ‘I’ll be back in a while. I am sure you can keep yourself entertained while I’m gone.’ He grinned at the now pouting Ross. ‘Unless you think you need some added motivation?’

‘Fuck off.’ Ross was now very grumpy. ‘Cock teasing motherfucker.’ Jim was about to retort with something suitably sharp when they stopped. There was the sound of footsteps down below in the square and Jim walked to the windows and peered out.

‘See?’ he said, giving Ross a stern look. ‘Now he’s getting away.’ He went back into the bathroom and turned on the shower, closed the door and then came back and made a quick call down to reception for more towels, then threw the sheet over Ross, creating a very impressive tent effect. ‘Have fun while I’m gone, baby.’

‘I hope you get arrested.’ Ross grumbled and Jim chuckled, picked up the shopping bag from the floor that had his gear in and left the room.

He made his way down the corridor in the opposite direction to the staircase. There was another door at the end that lead out to the fire escape that came down into an alley. It was locked but it didn’t take Jim long to open it with a judiciously applied piece of plastic. Ross had been the one to teach him how to pick locks and open doors, ridiculously proud of himself as he watched Jim pick it up.

The fire escape wasn’t well lit and Jim closed the door behind him and descended quietly into the darkness of the alley. He made his way along the edges of the square and jogged, using the shadows cast by the building as cover. He could just see the distinctive shape of Vincenzo’s hat outlined against the street lamps ahead of him and fell into an easy walk, just fast enough to keep up.

The plan was to make it look like Vincenzo had gone to wherever he was headed and then disappeared en route. That way there would be no-one looking for him until after he was supposed to be back on Saturday and once the alarm was raised, then hopefully the police would start by trying to find him elsewhere. There would be no need to search the church until it was too late and he and Ross were long back in New York and mostly forgotten.

Jim walked along, pulling his hood up and over his hair as he got to a lit stretch of street and watched the priest turn into a tobacconist that was still open. He hung back, waiting for him to reappear and then continuing to tail him. They walked down several small alleys and then Jim saw Vincenzo stop at a wooden door and unlock it. It was obviously his building and Jim moved to stand in the shadows of a doorway and watched. Soon enough the lights went on and Jim caught a glimpse of the priest moving past a window on the first floor.

He waited patiently, clocking his surroundings as he waited. The street he was on was deserted and Jim smiled as he thought of the inevitable confusion as to the priest’s fate.

Vanished into thin air. Went away and never came back. But then they would find him and it would be glorious.

The noise of a door closing caught his attention and Jim saw Vincenzo coming out. He was still dressed in his cassock, a bag in his hand. He went to a small Fiat standing at the side of the narrow road and fumbled for keys. Jim watched him put the bag in the back seat and then return to the door and lock it. That was when he moved.

It was only ten strides and then he was behind the man that had done such harm to the person he called brother. Vincenzo was taller, but Jim was stronger and experienced in taking down men bigger than himself. The attack was quick and sure, an arm around Vincenzo’s throat to stifle any cries and then the slow choke to make him lose consciousness to the point that Jim was able to bundle him into the back seat of the car and grab the shopping bag, putting on a pair of gloves from the package inside before he duct-taped the priest’s hands and ankles and then frisked him for the keys to the car and went to get in the front.

Behind him, Vincenzo was moaning softly, voice hoarse. Jim ignored him, using his recall for the route they had taken to drive through the streets until he was only one away from the square. He found a no parking zone and stopped the car. Vincenzo was more or less recovered when Jim opened the back door. He peered at Jim’s face, babbling in Italian until Jim took the Civilian out and showed it to him. The priest fell silent immediately and Jim cut the tape on his ankles and pulled him out if the car.

‘You have two choices.’ he hissed. ‘You call attention to us and I will gut you right here. Or you come with me and you might just walk away.’

‘Why are you doing this?’ Vincenzo’s voice was shaking as he answered in English.

‘I’ll answer your questions later.’ Jim replied. ‘Now walk.’

They moved back through the empty street to the square. The priest’s cassock hung low over his arms and concealed the tape binding his wrists. They got to the church door and Jim used the keys from his other pocket to unlock the door under Vincenzo’s direction. They slipped inside and Jim shoved the priest in front of him so he stumbled to the floor and then locked the door behind him. He turned back and hauled Vincenzo off the floor and half dragged half herded him towards the back of the church, the light coming in through the stained glass windows over the doors and the altar giving enough light to steer by.

Vincenzo was digging his heels in and struggling but Jim’s grip was like iron and they made it to the back. Jim opened the door and the next push had Vincenzo crashing down the narrow staircase. He landed ungracefully against the iron gate and Jim caught up with him.

‘Please.’ the priest pleaded. ‘Why me? I do not understand.’ His pleas for an explanation continued as Jim stood over him and opened the gate and then kicked him through into the ossuary. Vincenzo managed to get to his feet and stumbled across the flagged floor as he tried as best he could to put distance between him and Jim, crouching down like a frightened animal.

Jim flicked the light switch and the ossuary was flooded with a warm glow. He walked across to the cringing priest, raising his hand and pushing his hoodie back. He watched the realisation dawn on the priest’s face.

‘You?’ he asked. ‘But you’re a tourist?’

‘Funnily enough that’s exactly what I am.’ Jim replied. ‘It’s complete and utter coincidence that I found you, Father Vincenzo. But then I am a great believer in fate. Aren’t you?’ He reached out and the priest flinched away from him as Jim made to touch his thigh. ‘Tell me, do you still have the scar?’ Vincenzo’s eyes clouded with confusion and then cleared as his memory obviously kicked in.

‘You?’ he asked then looked away as he realised who Jim was. ‘You’re the Hawkins boy.’

‘I am.’ Jim smiled at him. ‘You remember me.’

‘I remember you were a psychotic little shit that stabbed me in the leg.’ There was a spark of anger. ‘You cost me my job.’

‘And you cost my brother his innocence.’ Jim replied. ‘You would have taken mine. Fortunately I was born without it.’ He stood up. ‘Now it’s time to repent for your actions.’

***********

Ross was bored. He’d been marginally amused by the look of undisguised horror on the face of the hotel maid that had bought their towels. He’d called her in, not being able to get up and answer the door himself, and she’d all but screamed when she saw him, dropping the towels on the nearest flat surface and fleeing.

Ross grinned. It would be enough for her to remember them distinctly and also that the perverts in Room 103 were playing some kind of sick sex game on the night in question and definitely nowhere near the church. It was classic misdirection, another trick he had taught Jim. His phone buzzed and Ross peered at the bedside table. The phone itself was a cheap pay-as-you-go, bought on the first day. Jim had one too and was now sending him a message to indicate that he was ready for Ross to join him.

Ross sighed and decided that he had to get out of the little set up Jim had him tied into. As much as Jim was capable of tying a very effective knot, this one was just for show and had relied purely on Ross not getting out of it (which was of course most of the fun). But now he was needed, it took barely a few twists of his hands and he was free. He got up, his erection having long since gone down after the terrified maid, and stretched. He dressed quickly, putting on the same clothes from earlier, belted on his knife belt and slipped the blade into the sheath, then left the room by the same route he and Jim had planned out earlier and taking the backpack they had prepared. It took him even less time to get out and he padded silently down the fire escape and through the alley.

Ross waited and watched until he saw the slightest movement that indicated that the door was open and trotted across the empty square to the church. Jim was waiting for him and stepped aside for him to enter. He got inside and Jim locked the door again behind him. He handed Ross a pair of surgical gloves and Ross put them on, following Jim in silence through the darkened church, their footsteps echoing faintly on the wooden floor. They went downstairs, Jim locking the top door behind him, and Ross could see the glimmer of lights at the bottom. When they came into the ossuary he saw that the floors were lined with pillar candles, each one lit. It draped the entire ossuary in an ethereal light and made the gilded artefacts on the altar glitter. Ross put the backpack down and looked around him.

‘Where did you get the candles?’ he asked and Jim grinned.

‘Found his office.’ he said. There’s a room next to the confessional. It’s also where I got the chair from.’

Ross stood and looked at the chair that now had Vincenzo bound to it with duct tape and facing the altar. His wrists were strapped to the arms, palms up, and his ankles were similarly bound to the legs. He blinked in the dim light, peering at Ross.

‘You too?’ he asked.

‘Yeah.’ Ross grinned at him. ‘Newsflash padre, we’re a couple.’

‘A couple of what?’ Vincenzo asked and Jim gave Ross a look before they both snorted with laughter.

‘Homos.’ Jim replied cheerfully. ‘It’s quite amusing when you think that you’re going to meet your end at the hand of a pair of…’ He gave Ross a wink. ‘What does the Bible call us again?’

‘Sodomites.’ Ross replied, folding his arms and watching Vincenzo look from him to Jim and back again. Apparently his brain was being a little slow on the uptake.

‘End?’ his voice went up slightly, tinged with the beginnings of hysteria. ‘You said if I came with you quietly I would get out of this.’

‘Correction.’ Jim said. ‘I said you might.’ He moved to stand in front of Vincenzo. ‘And that is entirely dependent on what you say and how you conduct yourself.’

‘In what?’ Vincenzo was starting to panic, struggling against the tape. ‘What are you going to do to me?’

‘Tell me,’ Jim was walking around him, having picked up a pile of white cloths from where they lay at the gate. ‘How many was it? How many boys did you rape, and then how many prayers did you say to have your sins erased?’ He handed some to Ross and nodded at the ground around Vincenzo. Ross took his cue and started to shake the cloths out and laying them around the priest on the floor. ‘How many acts of contrition did it take for you to be able to sleep at night?’

‘I did no such thing.’ Vincenzo protested. ‘You keep saying this but I never touched anyone.’

‘Really?’ Jim said. ‘Because I distinctly remember you putting your hand down my pants when I was twelve years old. And that’s how you got that scar I bet you still have.’

‘I got it because you were crazy, feral.’ Vincenzo spluttered. ‘And clearly nothing has changed. You are as deranged now as you were then.’ Jim huffed with laughter but there was no humour in it.

‘You know Richie is fucked up, right?’ he said and Vincenzo’s right eye twitched very slightly. ‘He tries, but it’s like there’s an empty hole inside him. He was basically a good kid, not like me. He knew what was right and what was wrong and he was brought up to believe in the sanctity of priests.’ He got right in Vincenzo’s face, his blue-green eyes flashing angrily. ‘But then you taught him that priests meant fear and having to hide things. You taught him things he had no right to learn at that age.’

‘Jim.’ Ross said, and his voice was enough that Jim pulled it in a little. He turned away, but Ross could see his hands were shaking.

‘You nothing but a perverted old man.’ he said. ‘Do you still do it? Is that where you were going to? Maybe some place where a whole bunch of you can get together and assault some little boys in peace and quiet?’ A look flashed across Vincenzo’s face. It was gone almost as quickly as it came but it was enough for Ross and Jim to see that Jim’s words had hit a nerve.

‘There is nothing in the scriptures to deny me this.’ Vincenzo spat, caught out and now trying to bluff his way through it. ‘Nothing! But the First Commandment tells us that thou shall not kill.’ Jim turned to face him again and now his face was ablaze with anger. It was the most emotion that Ross had ever seen him have during one of their hunts.

‘Fuck you!’ he shot back. ‘You think that I worry about my damnation? I damned myself a long fucking time ago and if killing you means I am damned again then I will gladly accept that.’ He stalked to the bag lying next to where Ross had dropped the backpack and came back with the duct tape. He tore a strip off and sealed Vincenzo’s mouth before the priest could protest. Ross looked at him, excitement thrumming just under his skin. He could feel the emotions radiating off Jim and it was more intoxicating than he’d imagined it could be. The very thought of watching Jim lose control was making him hard.

‘What do you want to do to him?’ he asked, trying to keep himself in check but already picturing cutting the priest open from throat to belly.

‘We kill him.’ Jim said, a cruel smile crossing his face as Vincenzo bellowed against the gag and twisted and bucked in the chair. ‘But first he loses that which he prizes the most.’ Ross breathed in sharply as he realised what Jim was alluding to.

‘Yes?’ It came out as a question and Jim looked at him, his eyes glittering with what could only be described as intent.

‘Yes.’ he replied.

Ross let out a bark of laughter and reached behind his back, pulling his t-shirt off and chucked it at the backpack. Vincenzo’s eye were getting wider and wider. Ross smirked at him and took the combat knife out from its sheath. He played with it, flipping it and catching it easily and the priest’s eyes followed it as if hypnotised. Jim moved to the chair, kneeling down. He placed both hands on the upturned palms of the priest and looked up at him.

'You might want to start think about penitence, Father.’ he said. ‘You remember how it goes right?’ He looked up at Ross as he took the Civilian from his back pocket and opened it, the candlelight gleaming off the curved blade. ‘Do you think paedophilia counts as a mortal sin or a venial one?’

‘I think it counts as something that’s bad enough to warrant having his balls cut off.’ Ross said and Vincenzo made a strangled sound and wriggled frantically.

‘Exactly what I was thinking.’ Jim said. He looked back at Vincenzo. ‘But I think we have time to play a bit first.’ He reached up, sliding the blade under the black fascia that Vincenzo was wearing around the cassock. The fabric separated with absolutely no resistance and fell away. Jim carried on, cutting away at the cassock next and pushing it aside. Underneath Vincenzo was wearing a short sleeved black shirt and a pair of black trousers. He’d fallen silent, his eyes rolling like a panicked horse as Jim started to hum, cutting away the cassock in long strokes and discarding the material on the ground except for one piece that he dug into. There was obviously a pocket there and he withdrew a string of amber rosary beads from the fabric and held them up to the light. ‘I remember these.’ He held them up so Ross could see them. The bead were beautiful, each about the size of a chickpea and transluscent, strung on black silk knotted thread as opposed to the usual metal clasps. The crucifix was perfectly carved, the fine detail cunningly wrought.

‘So?’ Ross said, taking the beads from Jim and inspecting them. ‘They’re rosary beads.’

‘Put them over there.’ Jim said, nodding at the altar. Ross obeyed, placing them on the polished wood surface. He came back, noting that Jim had now started cutting the shirt away and that Vincenzo’s flesh was pale and doughy underneath, his chest covered in thick greying hair. He was shaking badly, eyes squeezed shut and trying not to move in case Jim nicked him with the wickedly sharp blade. Ross smiled, knowing that any nicks would be intentional.

‘You didn’t bring anything with you.’ he said, referring to Jim’s chemical forms of entertainment.

‘That’s all right.’ Jim said. ‘I want him to feel everything.’ He had cut the shirt away and was tugging the fabric off. The pile on the floor was getting bigger. The last thing to go was the trousers and plain cotton boxers underneath.

‘That’s pretty impressive.’ Ross said.

‘I learned how to do it the first time, with the stargazers.’ Jim replied. ‘It was easier to get them into position and then prepare them.’ He grunted as he tugged hard at the last bits of fabric and then sat back on his heels and wiped the sweat from his brow away on his sleeve. ‘Done.’ He stood up and Ross moved in to stand behind him, chin on Jim’s shoulder.

‘He’s not very prepossessing.’ he said, and Jim chuckled and turned his head to kiss him.

‘You wouldn’t be either.’ he said.

Vincenzo looked up at them, tears falling freely down his face as he sobbed pathetically. His body was that of a man who’d once been fit and was now given over to indolence with saggy pectorals and a stomach that folded over itself. His soft cock sat on a nest of grey curls and Jim pointed to his stringy left thigh. Ross followed the line of his finger and saw an indentation.

‘Is that it?’ he asked and Jim nodded.

‘That’s it.’ he said. ‘That’s where I stabbed the bastard.’ He looked back at Ross. ‘You want to see how?’ Ross gave him a broad smile and nodded.

‘Yes please.’ he said, his enthusiasm bubbling over in his voice. Jim laughed and then, quicker than the eye could track, he lunged forward and sank the Civilian into Vincenzo’s thigh. Vincenzo howled, his eyes bulging out of their sockets. He thrashed around in the chair and Jim laughed again, the lightness in it almost as disturbing as the delight on his face.

‘It’s not even all the way in.’ he said to the priest. ‘If it was, it would kill you.’ He then pinned the priest back in the chair and wrenched it out, the blade coming out smoothly and coated in red. Vincenzo had lost control of himself, a puddle on urine forming underneath the chair. He was sobbing violently, head down as blood streamed from the gash in his thigh. Ross was impressed to note though that it wasn’t a fatal wound, at least not immediately. Jim knew very well where to strike and this one had barely nicked an artery.

‘Ross.’ Jim’s voice jolted him out of his contemplation. He looked at Jim, finding him smiling at him expectantly.

‘Can I?’ he asked, not quiet believing that Jim would allow him this. Jim nodded.

‘Go on.’ he said. ‘But shallow cuts. We want him awake for a while.’ He watched Ross intently as Ross knelt down, nostrils flaring at the coppery smell that permeated the air around the priest. He lifted the combat knife, then traced a line down the middle of Vincenzo’s chest, the blade just parting the skin and leaving a hairline of red. Vincenzo squirmed against the pain and the last bit over his extended stomach was a little crooked.

Ross did it again, creating a delicate network of lines over the priest’s skin. He had learned this at Jim’s elbow, the patterns allowing him to curb the relentless bloodlust inside him until they had both taken what they needed. He ran one gloved hand over the bloody thigh next to him and then streaked it across his own chest, the excitement peaking as he looked at the blood on his skin. Jim had moved away again but now he was back. He had the chalice in one hand and he knelt down next to Ross to press it to Vincenzo’s thigh. The blood ran in, collecting quickly until the chalice was half full and Jim stood back up and went to replace it on the altar. Ross wondered as to what purpose but then Jim was back. He placed the Civilian on Vincenzo’s thigh and pulled his own shirt off and chucking it into the pile. The white cloths at their feet were soaking up the blood, stained a muted red.

‘Good work, baby.’ he said as he knelt down next to Ross and Ross couldn’t resist. He leaned in and Jim obliged him with a sultry smile, catching him by the hair and pulling him into a messy kiss. Ross returned it, tongue in Jim’s mouth and completely oblivious to their horrified audience.

‘I want to watch you do it.’ he breathed as they pulled back from each other.

‘You sure?’ Jim’s eyes were kill-bright. ‘It’s not pretty.’

‘It’ll be beautiful if you do it.’ Ross said. He dipped his hand in the pooled blood at his feet and the dragged his gloved fingers across Jim’s chest, marking him. ‘Now you’re mine.’

‘I’m always yours.’ Jim replied and then he was back in Ross space, kissing him forcefully and making Ross moan. They broke away from each other again and looked up at the priest. His eyes were glazed as he went into shock, the neat patchwork of cuts and the gouge in his thigh black with spilled blood.

Jim got up, taking the knife and went in close, grabbing Vincenzo by the hair. He balanced on knee on the chair between Vincenzo’s knees and used the Civilian to carve a deep cross into his forehead, a blasphemous mockery of the sign of Communion. Vincenzo tried to scream behind his gag, but it was far softer than it had been earlier, the blood loss weakening him. Ross stood and moved in to crowd Jim, watching him cut in until he hit bone.

‘Fuck babe.’ he moaned. ‘That’s so fucking hot.’ Jim straightened up and moved back to both feet and suddenly Ross found that penetrating gaze turned on him.

‘Cut him open.’ he instructed. Ross heart rate went through the roof. He turned back, the blade in his hand moving in a single sure movement and the flesh of Vincenzo’s belly parted, blood spilling in great gushes of dark red, almost the same colour of the wine they had drunk not two nights earlier. It was enough to penetrate the abdominal cavity and the smell hit Ross right in the most instinctive animalistic part of himself and he growled. He dropped the knife and cupped both hands into the flow, collecting it and then spilling it over himself, revelling in the warmth of it as he smeared it over his skin. Jim stood watching him, his eyes bright, and Ross reached in, sinking both hands into the cut, feeling the peritoneal membrane separate under them and then his hands were fill of the glorious hot insides. He rummaged around, getting to the point where he was coated in gore to the elbow. Sated, he pulled his hands out and stood up and looked at Jim. His husband was staring at him open-mouthed.

‘You’re so fucking beautiful.’ he said and stepped into Ross space, his own knife falling to the ground as he grabbed him by the hair. This kiss was violent, teeth biting and fine bursts of pain as he pulled Ross' hair, willing him into submission like a wild animal. Ross was breathless when Jim let him go, his cock straining painfully against his jeans.

‘I want you.’ he panted. ‘I can’t wait.’

‘He’s not dead yet.’ Jim said and Ross growled at him.

‘He will be soon. Do what you need to do and then fuck me.’ he demanded. Jim’s eyes narrowed. He moved to the priest and crouched, one hand taking Vincenzo’s flaccid cock and the other picking up the Civilian off the floor and slicing through the fragile tissue as easily as if the blade were passing through air. There was more blood, more tortured moaning. Jim wiped at his forehead again, but this time he left a smear of red across his skin and Ross wanted nothing more than to lick it off. The piece of flesh in his hand went to Vincenzo’s right hand, then he went back in a second time and the next was the scrotum and testicles, a slippery red mess that went into Vincenzo’s left hand. Only then did Jim stand up and turn to Ross, his eyes blazing with a demented lust that drove Ross wild. He waited for Jim to come to him, his body now as blood streaked as Ross’. He placed one hand to Ross’ chest and pushed him backwards. Ross walked, stepping slowly and deliberately until his arse hit the altar behind him. He looked over Jim’s shoulder and saw that Vincenzo was watching them, eyes still open although they were glassy with pain and horror. Jim leaned past him and slammed the bloody Civilian on the altar, his hands going to Ross belt buckle, undoing it and shoving his jeans down before manhandling him around and putting one hand between Ross’ shoulder blades. He drew his hand down tracing the lines of Ross’ tattoo in blood and then shoving hard so Ross was bent over the altar. He braced himself on his hands, gasping as he heard the snap of Jim’s gloves coming off and then felt himself being pulled open. He kept his eyes fixed on the gilt cross in front of him, and then shivered as Jim ran his thumb over him. This was beyond every fantasy he’d ever had and he glanced back as Jim moved and saw that he was reaching for the chrismatory, taking one of the cut glass bottles from it and unstoppering it.

‘Fuck.’ It came out sharp and Jim looked back up at him and smiled. He moved his hand out of view and Ross felt the oil hit his skin, running down his back and over his entrance. It kept going, the backs of his thighs and the cleft of his backside becoming slick with it.

Behind him, Jim regarded the gleam of the sacramental oil on Ross skin. He ran both hands from the small of Ross’ back over his arse, the oil slicking their way until he could pull Ross open again and sink his left thumb inside him. Ross’ body yielded beautifully and he moaned as Jim worked the oil inside him, quickly relaxing under his ministrations.

Jim smiled, now lost in what he was doing. He looked back up at how Ross had his head down, his moans getting louder and more demanding with each movement of Jim’s thumb. It was then that his eyes happened to land on the rosary beads and a wicked thought occurred to him. He looked back to see that the priest was no longer watching them, head fallen forward and if not dead yet, then soon to be. Jim reached for the beads and held them up, then abandoned all thought of the dying man behind him and turned to the living one in front of him. He lowered the beads so they trailed over Ross' back and felt Ross go still.

‘What are you doing?’ His voice was deep and rough and Jim reached for his head and shoved it back down, then dragged Ross’ jeans down with his free hand until they were down around his ankles. He ran one hand up the inside of Ross’s thigh and over his balls, stopping to cradle and gently squeeze and make Ross squirm. Everything was slippery and slick with oil and this time he went in with two fingers, his other hand rubbing the rosary beads over Ross’ skin to coat them. Ross was almost incoherent and Jim slipped his fingers out of him and pressed the beads in. They went in easily, the amber nicely lubricated, and Jim kept pushing them in until only the crucifix remained, lying flat against Ross’ perineum. It was unbearably erotic, and he took a few moments to look at the sight in front of him. Ross was writhing underneath him and Jim smiled and took hold of the crucifix and then pulled. The beads resisted and then slowly popped out with a little more pressure and Ross whined with pleasure.

Fuck, Jim…’ He sounded like he was almost dying himself. ‘That’s so fucking good.’

‘Yeah?’ Jim waited until the beads were almost out and then pushed them back in again and Ross threw back his head and cried out. This time his body clamped down around them when Jim started to pull them out and he tugged harder. It made Ross shout and grab the edge of the altar. Jim watched each bead coming out, slick and shiny, and then pushed them in again. He took it slow, and they disappeared inside Ross' body until there was only the crucifix again. That was when he reached below it, his oiled hand going around Ross cock and stroking down a few times. His fingers came away wet with not just oil, and Jim worked it over Ross' cock, using his thumb to rub over the head until he could see Ross’ body clenching convulsively around the beads. He let him go and moved away.

‘Get up.’ he said. ‘On your back.’ Ross threw a look at him over his shoulder, his face vacant with desire. He moved though, struggling a little but eventually he slid onto the altar, the oil on his body making him slide over the surface. Jim got to work on his shoes and socks and jeans until Ross was splayed out naked in front of him. The crucifix hung between his legs and his cock was leaking and flushed against his belly, his black curls spread out like a shadowy halo around his head. He looked up with a sinful smile at Jim and spread his legs until they were almost off the table.

‘Fuck me.’ he said, his voice breaking. ‘Put your cock in me here, like this.’ Jim could see how far gone he was, drunk on blood and lust and what they were doing. He moved to the chrismatory, grabbing a second bottle and then came to stand at the foot of the altar. Ross watched him as he stripped off his own clothes and then got onto the altar and moved between his spread legs, unstoppering the second bottle and upending it over Ross’ body. When it was empty he dropped it into the pile of his clothes and ran his oily hands over himself, down his chest and stomach to his own hard cock. Ross watched him avidly, stripping off his own gloves and beckoning to Jim. Jim moved forward onto his hands and knees and then lowered to rub his body over Ross, the oil slicking them both up. He sat back enough to get his hand around both of them, moving it hard and fast and then slowing down to almost nothing. Ross was panting hard, his eyes locked with Jim’s

‘Fuck me.’ he breathed with every stroke. ‘Please. Fuck me.’ Jim could see how close he was, the knife edge Ross was riding. He reached down and tugged on the crucifix and the rosary beads made one final exit from Ross’ body and Jim set them aside. He let go of them both and reached for Ross’ legs, holding them open as he moved forward enough and pushed inside him. Ross whined as Jim’s cock went in, the passage smooth and perfect until he was completely buried in Ross' body. He steadied himself and then started to move. He looked down, the shine of oil on their skin and his cock as it pulled out and pushed back into Ross driving him to heights he’d never imagined. He kept it slow, each thrust pitched perfectly to hit Ross in that one place, and Ross lay spread out before him, legs splayed open wantonly and his eyes wide. Jim looked into the darkness he saw there and fell in love all over again. Then he saw the chalice standing just beyond Ross’ head and smiled. He leaned over him, letting their skin slide together for a few heavenly thrusts and reached for it. Ross’ dark brows knitted together, having forgotten already what the chalice contained, but Jim knew that this would be unlike anything they had ever done. Ross' hands were clutching at Jim’s back, nails digging in and his thighs sliding up Jim’s hips to lock him inside. Jim took hold of his hair, pulling Ross’ head back and forcing him to let go long enough to sit back up and take up the chalice.

Then he slowly and deliberately upended it and Vincenzo’s blood poured out like a sacrament over Ross, coating his skin and matting in the thick dark hair on his chest and stomach.

Ross howled like an animal, arching up right off the altar. He was so high off what they were doing that Jim knew that he wouldn’t last long and he fell forward onto him, the oil and blood turning into a thick emulsion that let them slide together. This time he allowed Ross to lock his arms and legs around him, their cries joining together as they fucked each other towards damnation, braced on his elbows and licking into Ross’ open mouth in time with his thrusts inside Ross’ willing body.

It was glorious and hellish, the stink of the blood and the scent of the balsam that fragranced the oil cementing the memory in Jim’s head. He felt like this was more than he’d ever experienced, like he was trapped in a never-ending climax. Ross was gone, his eyes empty of everything and his fingers sliding over Jim’s skin. He was tightening in a steady rhythm around Jim’s cock and then he tipped over, the friction of their bodies against his cock and the feel of Jim inside him too much to hold onto and he screamed his orgasm to the bones above his head. Jim let go and followed him, burying his face in Ross’ neck as he came deep inside him. It was cataclysmic, a climax that was as destructive and as beautiful as he’d ever had and his whole body shook with it as he kept going, fucking them both through it until it became pain and he had to stop because it hurt to even try and comprehend it.

They came down slowly, foreheads resting against each other’s and irrevocably tied together in their sins. Jim raised his head and gently pushed Ross' hair away from his face, kissing him softly on his bruised mouth.

‘Mine.’ he breathed.

‘All the way down to hell.’ Ross breathed in reply and kissed him back.

************

They cleaned up meticulously afterwards, wiping down every surface and packing up everything they had bought with them. Jim smiled when he picked up the rosary beads and caught Ross looking at him.

‘Keep those.’ Ross said and Jim put them in his pocket.

Afterwards they brought down the waste paper bin from Vincenzo’s office and burned everything in it that was soiled, the clothing they had worn and the gloves. Then Jim took a single picture of Vincenzo’s corpse and stuffed the camera in the backpack. His final act was to soak the cloths from the floor in lighter fluid and drape them around the dead priest like a shroud and set it alight. They left the ossuary with the priest burning and went back up and out into the night, locking the door behind them.

Jim’s prediction that the ventilation in the ossuary would eventually extinguish the fire proved to be correct and no alarms were called that night. They crept back into the hotel with no-one any the wiser and went to shower, cleaning each other off methodically until they were both perfectly clean. The next morning they took a walk by the alley where Jim had left the car and found it had been towed away.

They spent their last day in Florence wandering the city and laughing together, taking selfies and generally being stupidly in love.

************

It took two weeks for the Florentine Police to actually think to look inside the church. By then Vincenzo’s partially burnt body was a decomposing mess and nothing of any forensic value could be determined other than that he’d been murdered and not in a particularly nice way. It was a source of consternation to the authorities that the scene was devoid of any useful evidence. No motive could be determined and no suspects were sought.

Jim sent the camera down to Richie with a syndicate friend. A week later he got a post card with the Miami skyline on it. On the back it simply said _gracias mi hermano_. The rosary beads were hung on one of the bedknobs and used extensively. For weeks afterward all it took was the smell of wood, incense and balsam to set them off. They took to visiting Sunday mass and then barely making it into the apartment before they tore each other apart.

No-one came to their door. No-one connected them to the death of a parish priest in a room full of bones and they slept easy in their bed, wrapped around each other and dreaming in shades of blood and gold.


End file.
